You see, when
you are weather-bound, you might as well have something worth looking
at."
The storm lasted nearly three hours, and when it cleared Mac went over to
the Telegraph, where some confidential chatting must have taken place,
for when he returned he told us that the Dandy was starting out for the
homestead next day to "fix things up a bit." The Head Stockman however,
waited back for orders.
The morning dawned bright and clear, and Mac advised "making a dash for
the Fergusson." "We might just get through before this rain comes down
the valley," he said.
The Creek was most enthusiastic with its help, bustling about with
packbags and surcingles, and generally "mixing things."
When the time came to say good-bye it showed signs of breaking down; but
mastering its grief with a mightily audible effort, it wished us "good
luck," and stood watching as we rode out of the little settlement.
Every time we looked back it raised its hat, and as we rode at the head
of our orderly little cavalcade of pack horses, with Jackeroo the black
"boy" bringing up the rear, we flattered ourselves on the dignity of our
departure.
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